


Lazy Mornings

by DGCatAniSiri



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, with porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23288821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DGCatAniSiri/pseuds/DGCatAniSiri
Summary: Scott and Stiles have nothing to do this morning.Okay, they can do each other, but...
Relationships: Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski
Kudos: 88





	Lazy Mornings

If there was one thing that Stiles Stilinski hated, it was mornings.

Okay, in truth, that ‘one thing’ changed from day to day, depending on the weather, his mood, how much he could get away with complaining about it, the amount of supernatural bullshit he was suffering at any given point in time... There were always factors in the matter.

Regardless, at this point in time, it was mornings. Because he had a bedroom with an east-facing window, allowing the stupid sun to stupidly shine its stupid self directly into his face. On a very rare day off, that allowed him to sleep in. Considering that Beacon Hills pretty much demanded that he keep a schedule that had him active all through the night – because why not live in a town that basically decides at least twice a year to unleash a supernatural apocalypse? – he did not appreciate the sun and its bullshit.

Murmuring darkly at a low volume, Stiles rolled over, doing his best to avoid the sunlight poking into his eyes. This ended up having him end up burrowing close to the other warm body in the bed. 

Scott, of course, was already awake. Stupid werewolf metabolism. He needed far less sleep than his human lover, even if Scott McCall had been an Insufferable Morning Person even before the bite. Stiles pressing in to him just made him hum in amusement at his lover’s utter disdain for the sun’s existence. 

Feeling Stiles burrow against him just made Scott hum in amusement. “You’re pleasant in the morning,” he murmured.

“Mornings are an abomination,” Stiles shot back, speaking directly into Scott’s bicep. Scott let out a gentle laugh, both at the tickling sensation of Stiles’s lips against his arm and his lover’s general grumpiness. 

“Mornings mean that the supernatural is not going to end the world for a few hours yet,” Scott pointed out. Because he could not recall any serious threat ever having been posed to the continued survival of Beacon Hills or beyond at any point that came before the sun went down. 

It took a moment, but Stiles eventually made a strange sound that Scott would consider to mean “fine, point made,” and then he proceeded to try and burrow even closer into Scott, even though at this point, he was pretty much pressed into Scott’s body as deeply as humanly possible. 

Really, Scott couldn’t complain. Not considering that there’d been so many efforts from all sorts of supernatural things to make it so that they couldn’t enjoy something like this morning, where the only thing that they had to think about was each other.

With Stiles pressed against him as he was, Scott could feel his lover, his mate, in almost as intimate a manner as when they made love. It wasn’t the same way, but he could sense everything about Stiles, feel his heart beat. The gentle puffs of air as Stiles tried to fall back asleep tickled the hair on his arms. 

Of course, Scott was fairly awake at this point. He could, of course, simply stay put and enjoy the feeling of Stiles against him. The idea had its appeal, of course.

Then there was the rumbling of their stomachs, almost in chorus. Scott chuckled at this, amused that even their biological systems were in tune like this. 

Stiles just groaned. The muttering grousing that resulted was clearly meant towards the unfairness of a physical body demanded he remove himself from the comfort of his lover’s embrace – and, probably more importantly, the comfort of the nice warm bed and the siren song of sleep.

Scott could be the loving partner, get out of the bed, go make them both a breakfast to share...

...or he could opt to return one of Stiles’s many favors over a lifetime of friendship-turned-lovers and be a little shit.

“That’s a cue, babe. C’mon. Gotta get up.”

Really, was there any question?

Stiles mumbled something unintelligible again, this time having the distinct tone of anger and accusation at how dare. Scott, long since inured to Stiles, didn’t even blink. The werewolf just smiled, pressed a gentle kiss to Stiles’s forehead, and began to get out of the bed, despite Stiles’s best effort to imitate an octopus and latch on to him and keep him in place. 

“Stiles, come on. I’m hungry, and it’s not like you aren’t.”

“Hungry for something else, too,” Stiles said, finally finding his voice. His hand wandered down from Scott’s arm to his waist, groping Scott’s ass, just to make it absolutely clear what specifically he was hungering for.

Oh. Well. 

Scott leaned in, meeting Stiles in a kiss. Stiles shifted further, getting to more properly grip Scott’s body. 

“Well,” Scott murmured between kisses. “You’re waking up all of a sudden.” 

“I’m... motivated.” Stiles began moving down Scott’s bare chest, kissing a trail towards the waistband of Scott’s boxers. 

Scott found he was tempted to pull away for the time being – he WAS hungry for actual food right now, after all. Werewolf metabolism had always been an enemy, especially in the morning. Scott might have been more of an early riser by nature, but ever since he’d gotten the bite, he’d needed to be up early to appease his stomach after not eating anything for a handful of hours. 

Of course, then he had Stiles’s eager mouth wrapping around his cock, and his stomach was, effectively, told to sit down and wait as the rest of him was more active. 

As much as Scott enjoyed the physical sensations – which, god, those were good – the part of getting a blowjob from Stiles that made him feel like he was practically on a hair trigger, needing to make himself keep from lose control, was when Stiles looked up to him, locked their eyes, as he took Scott’s cock down to the root. When he could see in a look, in a glance, how much that Stiles absolutely, unquestionably, undeniably loved him. 

He only hoped that Stiles saw the same in his eyes. 

A squeeze of his hand, Stiles having wrapped his own around it, gave him an assurance of that fact. That was one of the things that made their relationship – from its days as pure friendship to here and now, with them as lovers – so important for the both of them, the fact that they were on such a similar wavelength, they could hear and understand one another without a single word. 

Scott didn’t last too long – he could have bothered trying to hold himself back, but, really, even without werewolf refractory periods, this was a day off for the both of them, so if they were inclined to spend the day in bed, really, they had that freedom, didn’t they? 

Stiles, though, looked... okay, Scott thought he always looked attractive, especially in the states where he looked what would, to others, look particularly ridiculous – the times he’d fallen asleep in a tangle of limbs and Scott had thought some variation of “he’s beautiful” would, if he told anyone, even their friends, get anything from disbelief to friendly laughter – but he certainly looked thoroughly debauched by having a face coated in Scott’s cum.

As Scott moved back, he saw Stiles moving as if he was going to start trying to make out with Scott. “Dude, you’re not kissing me like that,” he laughed.

“Like what?” Stiles asked, as if completely unaware of the sight of his face. It took a solid minute, a minute of Scott just staring at him, waiting for it to click in his mind, for him to realize what Scott meant. “Oh, fine,” he said, sounding more put out than he was. He pulled himself out of the bed – finally and firmly abandoning the pretense that he wasn’t going to get up this morning, heading for the bathroom.

It was while he was rinsing off the hand towel he’d used to clear off his face that Scott wrapped his arms around Stiles’s waist, gently kissing at the nape of his neck. 

Scott didn’t know if it was werewolf senses or lover’s intuition (probably some combination of the two) that told him Stiles was giving that sleepy, affectionate smile as he reached back, tangling a hand in Scott’s hair. “Love you, Scottie.”

So often they used other ways to say it – they knew what they meant, of course, the “you have me,” the “you’re my anchor,” all the assorted – it made the uses of the direct statement have a separate meaning all its own, a way of making the statement have more meaning, especially since it only ever happened when it was just the two of them, alone, apart from all the supernatural craziness that defined their lives when Scott was called on to be the Alpha, the top dog in Beacon Hills, the one who needed to save the day from the various creepy killers and such. 

Against the back of Stiles’s neck, Scott smiled himself. “Love you,” he murmured, voice muffled against Stiles. Not that it mattered.

His lover knew it without needing to hear it. Not that he didn’t appreciate it.

“You know,” Stiles drawled out, “I think you still owe me a blowjob.” 

Scott chuckled. It WAS only fair that he return the favor, he supposed. 

It was a good thing that they didn’t have any other plans for the day. Scott anticipated that they were going to be fairly busy, through the morning and beyond.


End file.
